I.
IN AMONG THE BOOKS AND PAPERS
YOU LEFT BEHIND,
PACKED UP BY GRANDMOTHER
IN CARDBOARD BOXRS
AND PUT IN THE ATTIC
YEARS AGO,
IS THAT ONE SNAPSHOT.
A TALL GOOD LOOKING MAN
IN A DOUBLED-BREASTED SUIT
LOOKING INTO THAT NOW ANTIQUE CAMERA.
HOLDING HIS HAND
YOU SNUCK AWAY IN THE NIGHT,
THE SOFT WINDS BLOWING
YOUR LONG WHITE GOWN.
HE STOLE YOUR HEART IN A WAY
A BABY COULD NEVER DO.
II.
THE NIGHT AIR FEELS CRISP.
THERE'S NO HOPE FOR RAIN.
AVOIDING THE TEMPTATION
TO GIVE NAMES
TO THOSE COUNTLESS STARS,
I GAZE INTO THE HEAVENS
AND WAIT.
IN A LITTLE WHILE,
AFTER THE CHURCH BELLS
RING TEN,
GRAM WILL COME OUT
AND SIT BESIDE ME
ON THE PORCH SWING
AND PUT HER ARM AROUND ME
AND SAY,
"COME IN CHILD,
THIS NIGHT AIR ISN'T GOOD."
I'LL READILY CONSENT
TO HER SOFT-ROUGH VOICE,
KNOWING WHAT THE MORNING ALARM
WILL DEMAND
YET,
I LIE AWAKE
PRAYING
FOR THE UNATTAINABLE.
III.
PERHAPS YOU CARRY MY PHOTO
AND TAKE IT OUT OCCASIONALLY,
She's not a little girl anymore.
See this clipping?
Valedoictruian!
A mother could be proud.
COME,
SIT OVER HERE.
THAT PHOTO'S
WEARING OUT.
PUT IT AWAY,
I'LL BUY YOU A DRINK.
MAYBE I SHOULD CALL HER,
CONGRATULATE HER.
SHE MUST HAVE WORKED SO HARD,
BUT WHAT COULD I SAY?
NOTHING,
THERE'S NOTHING TO SAY.
PUT THAT
THING AWAY.
BARTENDER,
GIVE THE LADY A BEER.
NOW REALLY,
IT'LL MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER.
COME, SIT WITH ME.
YEAH, I GUESS YOU'RE RIGHT.
MOVE OVER.
IV.
I REMEMBER WHEN I WAS SMALL,
YOU WOULD CRAWL INTO MY BED WITH ME
AND PULL THE BLANKETS OVER OUR HEADS. WE WERE SAFE THEN.
LINKS TO MORE OF MY POEMS
INDEX FOR MY EARLIEST WORK
HILL FARM
WOMAN IN THE RED HAT
WHAT IF WE HAD BEEN LOVERS
MY NEW BED
A PERSONAL SONG
PINCHING BACK
NEIGHBORS IN OBSERVATION
POEMS CURRENTLY IN PROCESS
